Part 71: Sirocco: Update 6
Sirocco's Year: Part Six
A sand raider, journal! Amazingly enough, one of the scallywags had found a way into the fortress! A quick perusal of the perimeter later revealed that Eiba had ordered the miners to build several entrances to the surface to 'let some fresh air in'. This could have ended in tragedy, but fortunately Eumenides - our legendary weaponsmith - was nearby. He immediately grabbed the raider's arm and pushed him to the ground where the war dogs tore the poor creature to pieces.
In recognition of his achievements, I decided to have this day be forever known as Eumenides Day! A day where we could celebrate his bravery with a chess tournament and a karaoke night! Then poetry readings! And charades! But he turned it down. He even got down on his knees, begging me to not have the holiday declared official! What a modest dwarf! I'm really quite impressed!!!
It wasn't long until a second sand raider appeared, however. Just when I thought I had blocked all the exits, too! Some thorough searching revealed yet more back doors. Oh, Eiba, what a rascal!
Syntax! was the hero of the day this time, fortunately being at the site of the attack when it happened.
I dropped by the gazebo to see how construction was progressing.
I must say I was very pleased... until I found out DarkHorse had vomited all over it. I know I can be a bit 'testy' sometimes. A little too 'hardcore' as the humans say, but I think that was the closest I've ever been to being angry. Here I am trying to do something that ACTUALLY MATTERS and they... they PUKE ALL OVER IT! It's a little upsetting is all I'm saying, journal, and I hope DarkHorse gets what's coming to him!
... OK, that was a bit much. I'll buy him a nice hat later when I've calmed down, ha ha ha!
OK, let's check my list of things to do...
Getting there, getting there. I discovered the other day that 64bitrobot's been practically - no - LITERALLY living in the jail. That's highly inappropriate for a man of his position! I will have to tidy up his accommodation after I've got everyone else sorted out.
Boy, this overseeing is hard work! I decided to take a stroll round the queen's new living space to see how it was shaking out.
Although the tomb's layout was true to my design, it lacked some of the joy and levity of heart I had envisioned.
But look on the bright side! I'm getting to design the very place where our queen will be laid to rest! It's a real honour, journal! Cheered up, I decided to take a look at the engravings that Skullbuggy and Heliturtle had been creating.
Ah, Bobthethurd, he loves his axes. Sometimes he'll go down to the forge room and just stare at the weapon pile for hours. Sometimes he'll stare at blank walls for hours too, but that's no fun to engrave is it?
Nippythefish! He's one of the new guys. May you serve long and proudly, Nippy. Of course, the caption is a little misleading. By 'surrounded by the dwarves' it is actually describing the rather violent initiation rite that the new Captain of the Royal Guard invented. (N.B. It involves oars, raw trout, plump helmet oil, and a lot of carousing. Let us not mention it again, journal.)
I'm sorry to say that Nippythefish nearly lost his nipples during the ordeal. I have a hunch this is why PerfectPotato insisted we get the engraving done. I do hope the queen doesn't mind this being on her wall.
I remember that cloth. It was a good cloth.
My gazebo is complete! A slick veneer of congealed vomit and mucus may have encrusted the bottom with a smell that will never fade but YOU KNOW WHAT?! I don't care because I HAVE A GAZEEEEEEEBOOOOOOOO!!!
THEY SAID IT COULDN'T BE DONE! THEY SAID IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO BUILD A SUMMERHOUSE ON TOP OF A GLACIER BUT I PROVED THEM ALL WRONG! MAD THEY SAID I WAS!!! MAD!!! BUT WHO ARE THE MAD ONES NOW, JOURNAL?!?! CERTAINLY NOT ME!!! HA HA HA!!! HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA!!!
For those having difficulty deciphering the graphics:
The first picture is the ground floor of the gazebo - the circles are pillars, and the arrow at the top is an upward staircase. The floor is made of rock.
The second picture is the first floor - the floor is made of metal. In the middle is another pillar. The X at the top is an up/down staircase.
The third picture shows the top floor. The thing in the middle is a solid gold statue (of Sirocco, of course). The arrow at the top is a downward staircase.
To be continued.
Dash Magnum wrote :-
Epilogue- The Deep Scars of Mole Wrangling
Journal of Dash Magnum
Hello again, Journal. Leg still hurts. Still can't feel arm.
The other dwarves still won't look me in the eye. I can see them avert their gaze as they shuffle past. Not that I can blame them. How can a dwarf relate to something they can't possibly understand? How can any of them understand? None of them know what it's like to be beard-deep in squirming, gnawing moles. None of them know what it's like to find yourself in the middle of a mole-splosion - when the moles tunnel in on you from all sides and you hold onto your Tithleth-damned pickaxe with all your might, carried by the wave of giant rodents.
Except for Eiba of course...he understands. Looking back I can see that now. See that he was right. Sure I resented the overseer at first. How could I not? Tossed me into that first mole-vein with nothing but a pick, and locked the door behind me. But I can see now he knew - somehow he must have known - that I was meant to wrangle moles. For however much I hated it at the time, I can see that Overseer Eiba was right.
Once a Moleboy always a Moleboy.
You see, Journal, moles are honest creatures: they just want to chew your face off.
Of course you do your Armok-damnedest to keep them from doing that, mind you...but you have to admire them for such a forthright attitude. You can always trust a giant mole to try to gnaw you in half; there's no deception there. A mole won't pretend to be a good mate, then backstab you when you're not looking. A mole won't come up on you while you're eating a plump helmet and beat you within an inch of your dwarfly life just because you broke something shiny on a really bad day!
I'm sorry journal, I blaspheme against Avuz...I do regret breaking the Golden Road, I honestly do. It was a stupid outbreak born of frustration and madness. But I can't lie to you journal...picking up that piece of golden pavement...lifting it high over my head...hurling it with all my dwarfly might and watching it shatter into bright, glittering pieces...I felt alive! ALIVE! Alive like the time I first opened a wall full of moles, and dug into the dark, dark earth to escape their fuzzy fury. And like the time I was pursued by sudden upsurge of moles (technical term is "Molecano") and I tripped a startled Bat-man as I ran past to keep the rodents occupied...
Armok forgive me...but I see now what I must do. Clearly I don't belong here. These majestically-carved dwarven halls...they are not for me.
There are Sand Raiders in Syrupleaf. The other dwarves are distracted. They won't catch me when I try to sneak away this time. You see, Journal, I know now where I belong...
I'm going back to the tunnels; where the last moles must still wait. That is the life the gods must have intended for me...it's the only place where I can find true fulfillment again. Sure, the moles will try to chew my face off again.
...but I know this: they're going to try to chew my face off...because they care.
Tell Eiba that I'm sorry.
Thanks, Eiba, for using my dorf to make such a fantastic narrative. Your last update was fantastically heartbreaking. Thanks for that. To the Moleboys!
markus_cz wrote :-
I know I don't pray to you very often, but I will have my Big twelfth Birthday soon, so I thought I might write this letter in hopes that you will find it and bring me some Gifts?
melancholeous too sad because we still didn't find a proper Father for her!
Also, if you could in you infinite wisdom posses mr. Skullbugy and inspire him to make a green glass (or any other kind of glass, but please not crystal glass) Artifact, that would be so cool!
Your dubious Worshipper,
Markus Cz. Clasplashes
12 years old